


no place else i could be but here in your arms

by richietosier (forestjoshua)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Nightmares, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Stanley Uris Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 20:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20981894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestjoshua/pseuds/richietosier
Summary: “Sometimes I think I’m still there. Underground. In the Deadlights."What Richie saw in the Deadlights still torments him at nights. After waking up from a nightmare, Richie starts to second guess whether everything is real, if the life he always wanted is just a vision. Eddie and Stan aren't having it.





	no place else i could be but here in your arms

**Author's Note:**

> title from here (in your arms) by hellogoodbye

One of the best feelings in the world was realizing your bad dreams weren’t real, after waking up, panicked and sweating or just with that cold terror in the pit of your stomach. Dreams were just images in the brain, sometimes terrible, but just that.

Nightmares were all too familiar to Richie Tozier. In his four decades spanning life, he had woken countless of times with his heart in his throat, body shaking with terror and mind freezing from it. The topics of the nightmares varied, but after his trip down the memory lane, after returning from Derry and the defeat of It, Richie dreamt of what he’d seen in the Deadlights.

The feeling of utter comfort when he’d come to his senses, slowly realizing what he’d seen hadn’t really happened, was a warm, almost euphoric sensation. Any unpleasant thing coming undone made Richie feel that overwhelming relief, but after the vision of Eddie dying, it had an extra layer. The strength of that relief was something Richie had never felt before.

When Eddie’s divorce was finalized, he had flown to LA. To Richie. Eddie had tried to end his former, miserable life as quickly as possible, but it had taken way more time than either of them would have wanted. Every week, day, minute, _second _was too much to them, for they had wasted already over 27 years. That night, Richie and Eddie had fallen asleep in the same bed. It hadn’t been the first time ever – they had shared beds as kids plenty of occasions, but it was the first time as adults, as _together _and that made Richie excited, even if it was all innocent, both of them too exhausted to get up to anything.

Now, they had time. What mattered was that they were finally together, no obstacles, no _buts. _They lived together, orbiting easily around each other. They had shared chores evenly between them. They had fallen into a routine. They were _domestic. _Sometimes, Eddie would stumble out of their bedroom wearing one of Richie’s silly graphic t-shirts and Richie’s heart would _lurch. _It was everything he had never dared to want. Eddie was looking for a new job and Richie wanted a dog. Marriage was definitely something that was happening in near future.

Richie couldn’t wait.

Some time had passed since Richie’s previous nightmares. He had always been slow to snap out of them when they were about Eddie. The terror was just too strong and sometimes, he’d have to call Beverly, or Stan, or Eddie himself to calm down. It rarely came to that, though. Most of the time it was enough to just look at the pictures of Eddie on his phone. They were proof enough that Eddie was alive.

Until Eddie moved in.

On the first night, Richie woke up with a start, having just witnessed Eddie bleeding, in pain and dying slowly, whilst the clown laughed in the background. Richie jerked out of his sleep and swung his arm to Eddie’s side, desperate to prove himself Eddie was _there._

It had resulted in him hitting Eddie in the face. Eddie had woken up instantly, letting out a startled _ouch. _The light had been turned on and Richie had seen Eddie rubbing his nose, looking annoyed, glaring at Richie. His gaze had softened when he’d noticed Richie’s distressed eyes. A stream of _I’m sorry_s had started to fall from Richie’s lips and he had only stopped when Eddie had pulled him into his arms, saying that of course he forgave Richie, but Richie just had to be gentler in checking upon Eddie in the future, _okay?_

The nightmares prevailed. Richie suspected it was because Eddie was with him and his brain couldn’t quite yet process it – that Eddie was alive and well and _Richie’s. _So it tried to convince him things were _not _like that.

So when one night, when Richie instinctively reached out towards Eddie after falling awake from a night terror to find Eddie’s side of the bed cold and empty, he naturally _panicked._

Richie tried to look for Eddie familiar shape in the dark. His hands pawed the empty bed. Heart hammering, he thought that maybe Eddie had just rolled further away from Richie in his sleep. Their bed was big – it could easily fit even a third person.

They rarely even touched when they slept and if they fell asleep entangled, by the morning they had been separated. It didn’t mean anything; it was just how it went. Richie usually slept on his side, curled towards Eddie, arms extended, unconsciously reaching for him. Sometimes, when he woke up, his fingers would just brush Eddie’s arm, instantly calming Richie down. He’d stare at Eddie’s blurry silhouette until falling back to sleep.

But tonight, Eddie’s familiar silhouette wasn’t there. With shaking hands, Richie turned on the bedside lamp, letting light pour into the room. It stung Richie’s eyes, still raw from sleep. Richie reached for his glasses – maybe he just couldn’t see Eddie, but no.

No Eddie.

By then, pure cold terror had gripped Richie. What if-

“Eddie?” he hoarsely called out. Heart continuing to thud, faster and faster, he got up, stumbling forward, almost falling over the ottoman at the end of their bed.

What if he was alone again? What if Eddie was never there? What if he truly _died? _What if-

Richie took a rasping breath and clutched the door handle of their bedroom. He was too afraid to open the door – what if the rest of the house was empty, too, completely devoid of Eddie?

It wasn’t the first time these thoughts had occurred to Richie. About three months ago, Richie had woken up, felt Eddie sleeping next to him, but it hadn’t been _enough. _Richie had started sobbing uncontrollably, until Eddie had stirred.

“What’s wrong?” he had asked when he’d been awake enough, noticing the state Richie was in. His voice had been really soft and one of his thumbs had instantly started rubbing circles into Richie’s arm, while the other had brushed tears away from his face.

“You died,” had Richie managed to say, lips shaking.

“But I didn’t,” had Eddie replied, pulling Richie’s hand against his chest, against his _heart. _Richie had felt Eddie’s warm skin through his thin shirt, felt the steady rhythm of his heart and only then, he had started to calm down, the flow of tears ceasing.

_Eddie is here, _Richie was trying to convince himself as he ventured from their bedroom. _Those are Eddie’s shirts in the closet. Those are Eddie’s shoes on the floor. That’s Eddie’s medication on the table. That’s Eddie in the picture on top of the drawer, in the picture of all the Losers at Ben and Beverly’s wedding, he’s standing right there between Richie and Stan…_

“Eddie?” Richie muttered. The kitchen was dark and empty, Richie could only hear the hum of the fridge. That thing was all too noisy, and they ought to have bought a new one ages ago, Richie thought as he left the kitchen. He had figured that maybe Eddie had woken up thirsty, wondered into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, like he sometimes did. Or maybe he was in the bathroom…

“Eddie?”

“Rich?” That was Eddie’s sleepy voice, coming from the living room.

Richie bolted forward. When he got to the living room, he had to grip the doorframe the prevent himself from falling face first on the floor. There Eddie was, Eddie, who was alive and whole, no huge gaping hole in his chest, no blood spilling from his lips. He was just getting up from the couch, eyes concerned and on Richie. The TV was on, muted, and Eddie had been sitting on the couch, his lap a covered by a blanket that now fell to the floor as he stood up.

“I- I-“ Richie stammered, unable to do nothing but stare. Instantly, Eddie approached him, hands reaching towards him. Richie shivered when Eddie touched him, those hands Richie knew so well finding their way to Richie’s face, caressing his cheek just because they _could, _one of them traveling up the nape of Richie’s neck up to his hair.

“Another nightmare?” Eddie whispered, eyes wide and understanding.

Richie nodded, unshaven cheek brushing against Eddie’s palm. He felt Eddie’s fingers bury into his hair, grounding him.

But he still didn’t believe, so he let out a wet sob, tears spilling over.

“Hey,” Eddie murmured, his thumb catching a stray tear. He opened his mouth to say something but seemed to change his mind. Instead, he whispered, “Come,” and took Richie’s hand, leading him to the couch. He settled in the corner, pulling Richie against him, kissing his hair. Numbly, Richie succumbed into Eddie’s arms and turned his head to stare at the TV. The light pouring from the screen colored both of them blue. Some gameshow rerun was on that Richie knew Eddie hadn’t really been paying attention to. Eddie didn’t really follow any show, only movies and the news.

_Eddie._

“Sometimes I think I’m still there,” Richie muttered after a couple of minutes of silence, his voice muffled against Eddie’s knuckles he had pressed to his lips. He felt Eddie’s arms tighten around him – Richie was lying against him, back against Eddie’s chest. Eddie’s _uninjured _chest.

Eddie shifted, laying his cheek against Richie’s head. “What do you mean?” he asked quietly, taking one of Richie’s hands so he could play with his fingers. Eddie loved to do that. “Where?”

Richie didn’t want to say it. What if he said it and it was true? He closed his eyes instead, letting out a shaky breath, focusing on the warmth of Eddie’s body.

“Where, Richie?” Eddie asked again, gently. “Derry?”

“Underground. In the Deadlights,” Richie said, not daring to open his eyes. What if he opened his eyes and the Deadlights were there?

“You’re here, Richie,” Eddie said, voice shaking. Now, he was drawing patterns with his fingers onto Richie’s shirt.

“What if I’m still there?” Richie said, almost choking on his words. “What if I’m just hanging there in the air, staring at those-“

“Stop,” Eddie said, sounding like he was in pain. Richie could feel him shiver. “You’re _not.”_

“It felt like- Eddie, it felt like an eternity. I- What if you’re _dead? _What if I’m in the Deadlights and you’re going to _die,” _Richie said, his voice edging towards hysteria.

“Richie, honey, I can tell you that you’re _not _there. I promise,” Eddie replied, pressing frantic kisses into Richie’s hair. “I _promise.”_

“You can’t promise that,” Richie whispered, “What if you’re not here at all?”

“Okay, Rich, that’s it,” Eddie sighed. He shifted, reaching towards his phone on the coffee table. “I’m going to call someone and they’re going to tell you this is utter bullshit, okay? What do you say, should we call Bev?”

Richie paused. “Call Stan,” he found himself saying, “He wouldn’t lie to me. He wouldn’t play into my delusions.”

Not that Bev would, either. But Stan would be more straightforward. Eddie nodded, understanding instantly.

A minute later, a familiar voice spoke, “Stanley Uris speaking.”

Eddie held the phone out on speaker, saying, “Hi, Stan, it’s Eddie. Why did you answer like that? You can see it’s me calling, you could’ve just said ‘hey’.”

“Yeah, Eddie, I figured it was you. That’s just how I always answer my phone, you know that. What’s up?” Stan yawned. “Isn’t it like two a.m. for you?”

“Yeah, Stan-“

“What?” Stan said, but he wasn’t speaking to Eddie. “No, it’s just Eddie, go back to sleep, Patty.”

There was a sound of shuffling and door closing, as Stan exited the bedroom so that Patty could sleep without disturbance.

“Is everything alright?” Stan asked. Richie could picture him, leaning against a wall, frowning so slightly that one single line appeared between his brows. Not a wrinkle in his expensive pajamas. The bastard probably didn’t even have a bedhead.

“Richie had another nightmare,” Eddie declared.

A short silence. Then, Stan was saying, “Alright. You there, Rich? About what? The usual?”

“Yeah,” Richie said quietly, but Stan still heard him.

“Yeah,” Stan echoed, his voice gentle. “Eddie is right there, Richie,” he continued, “Right there. Is he touching you?”

Squeezing Eddie’s arm, Richie whispered, “Yes.”

“What’s the matter, then?” Stan asked, sensing it wasn’t quite enough for Richie. Something was still awry. The Losers had a sixth sense when it came to each other, but Stan had always known Richie the best.

Richie couldn’t reply, too paralyzed with fear. He was probably never going to be free of it, which scared him even more. Luckily, Eddie was there to speak for him when he could not, “Richie thinks he might still be in the Deadlights and all this is just what he’s seeing there. Not real.”

Silence. Richie could hear the sounds of traffic outside and Stan’s breathing from the phone.

Stan hummed and when he spoke, his voice sounded very neutral. “Is that so? You know that’s bullshit, Rich.”

“Is it?” Richie said, jaw tensing up. “How do you know that, Stan?”

“Okay,” Stan sighed. Richie could hear him walking around, the sound of his footsteps echoing. He pictured Stan sitting down, sinking into an armchair, running his hand through his curly hair. “What did you see in the Deadlights?”

“I saw Eddie dying,” Richie said, feeling Eddie tighten his arms around him.

“What else?”

“I figure I saw a lot of things,” Richie huffed, not really wanting to think about it. If he closed his eyes, he could see terrible visions flashing in his mind’s eye. He kept his eyes open.

“But you zeroed in on Eddie dying,” Stan said, “Because that’s what scared you the most, right? That’s what haunts you?”

“Yeah,” Richie breathed, not entirely sure if Stan heard him, again. “I dream about it. It piercing his body with its claw and then, Eddie bleeding to death while I can do absolutely _nothing.” _Richie had to hiss the last word from between his teeth. He heard Eddie draw in a sharp breath.

“Those are just dreams, Richie,” Stan said, “Dreams aren’t real. They’re just images and sensations in your mind.”

“Bev’s dreams were real,” Richie snapped, feeling Eddie trying to calm him by caressing his hair. Richie tried to focus on the motion, Eddie’s fingers against his scalp, but it wasn’t quite enough.

“Bev’s dreams were visions that didn’t come true. Yours are like that, too, except they _can’t _come true, because _It is dead. _So – just images and sensations. Like I said. Echoes of past and of lost future.”

“But Stan,” Richie continued, sounding desperate, “What _if _I’m still there? What if _this _is just what I’m seeing in the Deadlights? What _if-_”

“Yes, I was getting to that,” Stan replied, “Why would you have nightmares about what you saw, if this was just a Deadlights vision, then? What’s the point of that? And if this was a vision, why would you start questioning everything? Would that mean you’d snap out of it? Richie, it doesn’t make sense, trust me. You have already _seen _the Deadlights. You cannot _be _in the Deadlights.”

Richie wanted to believe Stan. Swallowing, he nodded, then realized Stan couldn’t see him, so he just said, weakly, “Okay,” adding, “If it doesn’t make sense to you then I guess I’m making all this shit up.”

“Yeah? Are you feeling better?” Stan asked.

“Not really,” Richie admitted. He was still terrified, lost in his mind.

“I get it. It’s alright. We all are still affected by It, right, Eddie?”

“Right,” Eddie echoed, actually sounding haunted.

“Get some sleep,” Stan told them, “_Both _of you. I’m heading back to bed. I’m pretty sure Patty did not go back to sleep and she’s waiting to hear what’s going on with you.”

“Alright, give her our love,” Richie said.

“I will,” Stan assured, “Good night, Richie. Eddie. Love you guys.”

“Love you,” Eddie said. That was a habit they all had caught from Mike, who was always calling, asking about everything, listening with enthusiasm, speaking with longing in his voice and telling them he loved them, each time.

They did love each other, all seven of them. So much. Because they were family and bonded forever. And they told that to each other, constantly.

“Love you,” Richie parroted Stan and Eddie and Eddie ended the call.

Richie let out a sigh, sinking further into Eddie’s embrace. Now, his head was thudding, from tears and stress. He took off his glasses and rubbed his burning eyes.

“Hey, don’t do that,” said Eddie gently, taking Richie’s hand and shoving the glasses back to their place. “You’ll get your eye infected.”

“Always looking out for me, Eds,” Richie chuckled wanly. He waited for a, _don’t call me Eds, _but it never came. Instead, Eddie pressed his lips into Richie’s hair again.

“You should go back to sleep,” he muttered.

“What if I can’t?”

“Try. You need sleep, Rich.”

“What about you?” Richie said. He slipped from Eddie’s arms, turning around so that he was facing him, their knees still touching. “What were you doing up at this hour, huh?”

Eddie fiddled with his phone, biting his lip. He said nothing.

“I know you have nightmares too,” Richie said to Eddie.

“It’s not that,” Eddie replied, sighing.

“You should be the one getting some sleep,” Richie continued, “You have a job interview tomorrow, remember?”

“Yes, dickwad,” Eddie said, gently punching Richie’s shoulder. He was smiling. “That’s why I was up. I couldn’t sleep because I’m nervous.”

“Aw, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie teased him, pouting. “Don’t be! You’re going to ace it. Just show those big doe eyes of yours and they’ll be sold.”

“Asshole,” Eddie chuckled, “They need to know something else. Like how I assess risks.”

“Oh, I want you to assess _my_ risks,” Richie said, grinning.

A fond look appeared in Eddie’s eyes, throwing Richie off. Richie was expecting Eddie to – rightfully – scoff at Richie and tell him he was being ridiculous. Instead, Eddie touched Richie’s face, saying, “Ah, there he is. Everything is right in the world.”

“What do you mean?” Richie said, “You don’t like me when I’m sad?” He pouted.

“No,” Eddie immediately corrected, “I like you, _always. _Except when you’re being a little shit. Heck, maybe even then. But I don’t like it when you’re sad because you should be happy and smiling.”

“I know I’m a jokester funnyman comedian, but I can have other feelings,” Richie said, only half joking.

“I know,” Eddie sighed, pulling Richie closer, “Trust me, I know. I just don’t want you to be sad because it sucks, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t want you to be sad either,” Richie mumbled against Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’m not,” Eddie replied.

“Good,” sighed Richie, “Maybe we should go back to bed.”

“Yeah. Let’s do that. Maybe you can show me what you meant by assessing your risks,” Eddie joked.

Blinking, Richie replied, “Honey, I don’t think I meant anything by that. I was just trying to be funny.”

“I know,” Eddie said fondly, leaning in to kiss Richie. Against his lips, he whispered, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Richie said. He let Eddie pull him and guide him back to the bedroom, arm around Richie’s waist.

They drifted asleep, holding hands.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading !!  
my tumblr: richietosier


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